The Last Ride
by Zelkina Blackheart
Summary: Undertaker comes across a lone woman in Austin, about to take a long ride around the USA. But he can't let her go alone. And for some strange reason, she has no idea who he is, even though she's a WWE fan. As he joins her, he asks himself the question: Why doesn't she know who I am? When he gets the answer, it's not the one he expected.


He'd been watching the girl all evening. Sat at the corner of the bar, refusing the guys who tried to hit on her with crushing brutality. He was almost on the point of betting on how long the next guy was going to last before getting shut down. She'd been writing in a book of some kind, her attention focused on that and only that, giving him time to look her over and assess her. Black leather trousers, hand patched in places, above what he thought were cowboy boots. A tastefully ripped and torn Undertaker t-shirt, revealing a toned stomach above the leathers. Tattoos up and down her arms. He figured she must work out regularly, as he scanned her face. Her blue eyes were concentrated on what she was doing, a black nailed hand supporting her head as she wrote. Black makeup, black lipstick, black hair beneath a black and purple bandanna. The aura the girl gave out was every inch "Bitch and I know it" and he couldn't help thinking it attractive. There was a clunk beside him as his drink was served, and he looked up at the barman. The man smiled, and went off to serve the girl.

"Can I get you anything, Miss?"

"JD and Coke would be great," she said, before fishing her coffin shaped purse out of the pocket of her leathers. He stifled a laugh as a guy walking over seemed to think better and almost ran off.

"Coming up. Ice?"

"No thanks." She replied. The barman nodded, and the guy watching her tried, and failed to place her accent. He scratched his chin, feeling the beard beneath his fingers. He was intrigued, he decided. He wanted to know who she was, where she was from. But there was no way he was going over and getting shot down. The barman put her drink down in front of her and she fished out a few dollars to pay for it. She smiled, accepting the change and putting it away in the purse, and the purse was slid in to her pocket. Then she resumed what she was doing, pausing now and then to take a drink. He was intrigued alright.

"Ain't from here, is she, Greg ?" he asked the guy behind the bar. He shook his head.

"No. Aussie was my guess. Stopping in a room upstairs for a few nights, as I understand from Martha. What are you thinking, Undertaker?"

"Nothing. Just ready to place bets on how long before the next person gets shot down." Undertaker replied. He finished his drink.

"Another?" asked Greg, as at the corner the woman looked at her watch, and knocked back the remainder of her drink. She closed her eyes as she swallowed the last of it, evidently enjoying the taste, before sliding off the stool and heading for the doors leading to the sleeping quarters, the book in her hand.

"No, I'm good. Time to head home for the night, I think."

"You heading to the gym tomorrow morning I take it?" Greg said. Undertaker nodded.

"Yeah. Gotta keep in shape. See you tomorrow maybe. If the weather stays like this, I'll need a reprieve in the evening." He smiled, before sliding off the barstool and walking out, throwing a wave over his shoulder as he walked out the door. Moments later, he stood beside the bike many cherished. It was his pride and joy. Sitting on it, he saw another bike, and looked over. It was black and purple, the words "The Last Ride" were written across the petrol tank. He smiled. He was prepared to bet anything the bike belonged to the woman from the bar. It was a beauty, he had to admit, he decided, before starting his own up and riding home.

Walking in to the gym that morning, Undertaker smiled and nodded to all of the regulars. They all knew not to disturb him while he worked out. He was surprised to see a group of guys however, watching the floor exercise area. Here, punch bags and dummies were kept, as well as space for classes like yoga, aerobics and the like.

"Is it girls yoga again?" Undertaker asked as he walked over.

"GI Jane more like," said one of the guys watching, and Undertaker walked over to see what they were looking at.

He was surprised to see the girl from the bar working out. As he watched, she did sit-ups, stretches, squats, and press ups, at one point going up on one hand only, and then pushing herself up to clap between push ups. _ I was right she does work out,_ Undertaker thought as she rolled on to her front, and did a very impressive kip up to get back to her feet.

"Nice," said the guy next to him. Undertaker nodded in agreement, before heading to lift some weights. The others scattered as she stopped working out, and Undertaker smiled to himself as they passed him, like a heard of frightened sheep. _I wonder why she puts herself through all that?_ He thought as he worked out. _Maybe she fights. _

That evening, he went back to the bar. The bike had moved, it was parked two spaces down from the place it had previously been. Walking in, it was quieter, maybe because it was Sunday and people had to be at work the next morning. The woman was here again, this time at a table with a map set out in front of her. It looked like she was planning a trip. Undertaker found himself wondering where she had come from, and how far in to her trip she was, as he walked up to the bar.

"Evening Undertaker. What can I get you?" asked Greg.

"Two JD and Cokes." He said. "No ice."

"Good luck," Greg said, following Undertaker's gaze to where the woman sat. Tonight, her shirt of choice was a Kane t-shirt, ripped in the same way. Black jeans, artfully torn and tattered. And the same pair of cowboy boots.

"Thanks." Undertaker said as Greg put the drinks on the bar. Undertaker dug his hand in his pocket but Greg waived him away.

"Watching you get shot down will be payment enough." Greg smiled. Undertaker shook his head with a smile and picked up the two drinks.

She was scanning an area of the map as he approached, and sat down.

"Here. Your glass is empty." He said, putting the drink down on the table.

"Thanks for the drink, but you ain't getting in my pants, I'm not here for that." She replied, without even looking up. A necklace hung from her as she leant over the map, it looked like a tube of some kind. Words were etched in to it, but he couldn't read them.

"And if I told you I wasn't here for that?" Undertaker asked.

"I'd call you a damn liar." Still she didn't look up, but went to mark a turn off on the map, and changed her mind, withdrawing her hand at the last second.

"Well someone hasn't had a very nice slice of America, have they, if that's all they think American guys are after. Or is it just Texan guys?" he asked.

"So far, just Texans, as here is the only place I've been since I got off the plane." She replied, before finally looking up. His heart stopped for a moment as he realised she would probably recognise him, and fan-girl out if she did.

"Well, we aren't all like that, I'll assure you that right now." He smiled as she reached for the drink. "Australian?" He breathed a mental sigh of relief as there was no sign of recognition, no sign of her actually knowing who he was.

"English." She corrected, before taking a sip of her drink. He smiled, before holding out a hand.

"Adam." He lied, if there was no recognition, he didn't want to bring it to light, not yet.

"Toril." She replied, taking it and shaking it.

"So. What brings you to almighty Texas?" he asked, with a smile, and was pleased to receive one in return.

"Road trip. I'm on my way to Florida tomorrow, before doing a bit of a circuit of the USA before heading back here, then heading home." Toril replied, gesturing to the map. Undertaker could see now it was a map of the USA, with various cities marked off, and roads highlighted. Next to it, a piece of paper that listed cities and locations within them, the paper looking like it had been folded and re-folded many times. "I'll be lucky to be home before Christmas."

"The way you say that, I wonder if you actually want to be home for Christmas."

"Not really." She said with a small laugh.

"So when are you heading out?" Undertaker asked.

"Tomorrow morning. Early, planning to leave by nine. I'm heading towards Florida, taking it easy, stopping off here and there on the way. Maybe catch a showing of TNA once I get there." Toril said. "That's about the only planned bit of the whole trip. All I know is I'm doing a big old circuit of the USA, hopefully hitting some of the mega cities, before heading back here and jumping on a plane home."

"Flying solo?" he asked, sipping his drink. He didn't know why, but it worried him when she said that she was. "No one wanting to come with?"

"There was no one to ask." She replied, and Undertaker found himself alarmed at the sadness in her voice when she replied. They talked for a while longer, before she excused herself and made her way to bed. Undertaker sat thinking a moment longer, before heading home himself, thinking about their conversation.

* * *

><p>When her alarm went off at half seven that morning, Toril desperately wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. <em>No, you owe it to him to do this. You're here now, he's here with you, if you just treat it like a holiday and not the road trip it's supposed to be, how is that fair?<em> She wiped her eyes and forced herself out of bed. Everything was packed, all she had to do was wash, dress and go. Her backpack sat next to the door, ready and waiting. This was it. It was the beginning. Toril looked over at the journal on the bedside cabinet, and smiled, before picking up a pen and began to write.

"_It's 7:30 in the morning. I'm tired as hell. You know I can't do mornings, never have. But I know today is an important day. Today is the start of it all. I know you aren't here with me, that you're back home. Ty, this is the only way i can really get out exactly what I'm feeling. I said yesterday I'm going to write down everything, and i mean everything, that happens in here, and the spare one I bought just in case. I want to be able to tell you everything. I want you to know everything. Today I leave Austin TX, and head to Houston, before going on to Lafayette. I'm only allowing 6 hrs a day of riding, I don't want to overdo it."_ Toril paused, and looked at what she had written. Deciding that it was enough, she closed the book, put it inside her backpack, and went to wash, dress and head down to breakfast.

It hadn't taken him much longer than the ride home to be 100% sure about what he wanted to do. Thoughts of seeing the girl on the national news in 3 or 4 weeks as having been found dead had plagued him, and as soon as he got indoors, he'd gone straight to the calendar. The decision was made for him, and after two hours of phone calls and organisation, he was sorted. And now, half past seven, nearly eight in the morning found him riding back to the bar and hotel, a backpack filled with his essentials, saddlebags filled with anything else he needed. As he reached the bar, part of him told himself off for being so reckless, so idiotic that he would leave everything as it was and go gallivanting round the USA with a girl he didn't even know. But, as he told himself, he couldn't justify knowing he could have gone with her if she suddenly appeared on the news in a few weeks time dead. It just wasn't something he was prepared to let happen. Why that was, why it should bother him so much, he didn't know.

He reached the bar, and saw the bike parked up still. He smiled, she hadn't left yet. Going inside, he saw Martha sorting out breakfast for the hotels few occupants, and the girl was sat at the table. A huge breakfast, the size of which he had only ever seen athletes eat sat before her, with a large mug of tea. He nodded to Martha as he came in. Food was a good idea, he realised.

"I'll have the same as her," he said noticing it looked like she hadn't started it.

"Alright sweety. Coming up." She smiled, before bustling off. He went over and sat down opposite the girl, who barely looked up, before going back to the section of map she had in front of her.

"I figured you could do with the company. It's a long ride you're planning." He said with a smile.

"Thanks for the offer, but I'll be fine." She replied, before shovelling a forkful of bacon in to her mouth. Undertaker was surprised at her refusal. People didn't usually refuse him. Then again she still obviously had no idea who he was. Perhaps it was the lack of eyeliner, he mused, as he tried a different approach.

"Let me re-phrase that. I'm probably the only person in the states who knows who you are...sort of...and where you're roughly headed. So if something happened to you, no one would know. I'm coming with you." He said. He watched as her brow creased in a scowl as she ate, and it was a moment before she swallowed her food and spoke.

"I don't need you to look after me." Toril bit.

"Well, you can tell me I'm not coming, but everywhere you ride, i ride. Everywhere you stop, ill stop. I might even end up alongside you. So we can either get along now, or you can do it that way for the whole trip." Undertaker said, laying it on the line.

"Alright, Adam. You win. If that's what you want to do. Sure you're going to be able to keep up?" She said, with a smile.

"I shouldn't have a problem." He smiled, as Martha came over with his food. He always loved how quick it was here. "So. What's the first stop?"

"Houston. I need to go to the Astrodome, and take a picture of me outside it." Toril said, before taking a swig from the mug. "Then on to Lafayette, where I'll be stopping for the night."


End file.
